Saturday, 24 May 2014

Thanks for letting
me visit! I’m really excited to guest on your site today. I’m pumped about the
release of Crossfire as part of the Men in Uniform anthology from Torquere
Press. I had decided to make 2014 my year to write a few short stories. I was
excited when I found the Torquere Press call for Men in Uniform. I mean, check
out the cover, hot! A story for the Men in Uniform anthology looked like the
perfect place to begin. I loved the subject and Rick and Gabriel developed into
characters that I really enjoyed learning more about.

This story has
murder, kidnapping and a missing person all wrapped into one neat bundle. I
hope everyone enjoys the tale.

~ Jon ~

blurb

Rick
Anthis, a forty-five year old veteran of the Colorado State Police, and his
husband, Gabriel Thorkelson, a deputy sheriff in a nearby county, enjoy the
peace of their suburban Boulder home. Until three gunshots rip through the
tranquil neighborhood and Rick witnesses the kidnapping of his buddy, eight
year old Jacob.

The
clues are sparse until Gabe reminds Rick of something Jacob had said. Rick has
a starting point. He and his CSI team locate the remote hideout, only to find
the the kidnappers are gone, and Gabe is missing too.

Excerpt
from Crossfire.

Rick
dried the last dish and handed it to Gabriel to put away. Gabriel settled the
last plate into the white cabinets. He loved their house and the quiet, older
neighborhood it was in. He hoped Mark and Rachel could work out their issues,
keeping Jacob in the forefront.

Rick
put his hand around Gabriel's slender waist. He's as sexy as he was in
college. Damn just being next to him makes me randy. Releasing Gabriel,
Rick folded the dishtowel carefully and laid it beside the sink.

"Supper
was great. You're a damn fine cook."

Gabriel
snickered and spun to pop Rick with a wet towel. "It should taste good.
Your mother gave me herbs from her garden the last time we visited."

"Mom's
just trying to fatten me up. I'm kind of skinny for a forty-three year old
Greek man."

The
towel snapped against Rick's butt again and he grabbed at it. Gabriel danced
away, his face lit with delight. "Where does that leave me?"

Rick
swept Gabriel up and kissed him. "It leaves you in my arms, just where you
should be."

Rick
paused as he remembered the note in his pocket. Leaving his hand on the small
of Gabriel's back he reached in his shirt pocket and fished out a small piece
of yellow paper. He gripped it between two fingers and dangled the sheet in
front of Gabriel.

"Speaking
of, I found another note in my lunch."

Gabriel
studied the symbols on the page as if he'd never seen them. "Huh, what do
you think that means?"

Rick
smiled. "I know what it's meant the last dozen times I found one in my
lunch."

"Really?
And what was that?"

"It
meant I was going to be exhausted the whole next day."

"You
don't say. Let me see that." Gabriel took the paper from Rick's hand and
appeared to study the content. "Looks like Native American symbols. Hmm,
maybe 'bear' and 'hunt'." He smiled at Rick with a glimmer in his eyes.
"Are we going on a bear hunt this fall?" Gabriel reached up and
tugged on the short hair coming from the top of Rick's T-shirt. The slight
touch shifted his libido into high gear.

He
nuzzled his face against Gabriel's throat and sighed at the spicy fragrance
that curled through his nostrils. Rick slid his hand under Gabriel's shirt; the
rub of his chest hair on Rick's palm ignited his desire. "What's the sign
for otter? Because I think I need to hunt one of those little furry
things." I still can't believe Mom gave Gabe my Eagle Scout pictogram
project.

Jon Keys’ earliest memories revolve
around books; with the first ones he can recall reading himself being “The
Warlord of Mars” and anything with Tarzan. (The local library wasn’t
particularly up to date.) But as puberty set in he started sneaking his
mother’s romance magazines and added the world of romance and erotica to his
mix of science fiction, fantasy, and comic books.

A voracious reader for almost half a
century, Jon has only recently begun creating his own flights of fiction for
the entertainment of others. Born in the Southwest and now living in the
Midwest, Jon has worked as a ranch hand, teacher, computer tech, roughneck,
designer, retail clerk, welder, artist, and, yes, pool boy; with interests
ranging from kayaking and hunting to painting and cooking, he draws from a wide
range of life experiences to create written works that draw the reader in and
wrap them in a good story.

Wednesday, 21 May 2014

It's been another fast week of mixed emotions. Nothing major happened, just a lot of ups and downs. It was pleasantly distracting to write about Robin and Cyan, especially when he surrounded himself with these

Robin chased Cyan through mostly empty corridors.

“Cyan, please,” he called. “You don’t understand. You didn’t
hear it all. That’s not what I said. I swear I wouldn’t say something like that
about you.”

Cyan either didn’t, or didn’t want to hear. He kept on
running until he suddenly stopped and hammered on a door.

“Shit,” Robin hissed, and skidded to a halt.

The door to the headmaster’s office was wrenched open. “What
the…?”

“It’s happening,” Cyan said, in a strange voice, and stumbled
into the room as the headmaster stood aside. Moments later the door closed
leaving Robin alone in the corridor.

What was going on? ‘It’s happening?’ What did that mean? What
was happening? Had Cyan expected Robin to let him down somehow? Was it because
he’d just been waiting for someone to call him a retard? But that couldn’t be
right because people had been shouting that word all day.

Robin sat in a chair and pondered. What was going on in
there? Many times, he decided to leave, but somehow, he couldn’t. Something was
going on and it wasn’t good. Whatever it was, he couldn’t leave Cyan alone.

The sound of hurrying footsteps snapped him out of his
pointless musings, and he glanced up to see a woman almost running down the
corridor. She was carrying a large bag, from which brightly coloured feathers dropped
to leave a trail behind her.

Robin hurried to gather up the scattered feathers, which had
now been joined by a few rainbow coloured scraps of material. He handed them to
the woman, and as soon as he caught her eyes he knew who she was. Cyan’s
mother.

“Oh hello,” she said a bit absently. “Robin isn’t it? Do you
know what happened?”

“No. At least…. It’s been a bit rough. Some bullies got hold
of him and when I found out I went to sort it with them. No fighting,” he added
quickly when her eyes widened. “I…um...persuaded them it wouldn’t be a good
idea to say bad things about Cyan. He overheard the last part of the
conversation, and must have thought I was saying the things I was telling them
not to say. He ran away and I couldn’t’ catch him. Next thing I know he was in
there. I’ve been…. I couldn’t just go.”

The woman smiled, and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a
good friend, Robin. I’m glad Cyan met you.”

Turning away, she knocked on the door which was opened almost
immediately. “Could you wait here for a little while?” she asked, as the
headmaster ushered her in, giving Robin a hard look.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Acutely aware of the glare the headmaster had given him before
he closed the door, Robin squirmed in his seat. What the hell was going on?

The headmaster’s office wasn’t the most comfortable room in
the school, especially to those pupils who had been summoned there. Even when
he knew he’d done nothing, Robin always felt slightly guilty when he entered
this room, and this time he wasn’t sure whether he was in trouble or not.

Cyan was sitting on the rather basic corner unit where the
headmaster would have ‘chats’ with people who weren’t in trouble. Those who
were had to sit in hard backed chairs on the opposite side of the desk to his
lazer-eyed glare.

Even though he was in the comfy seats, so to speak, Cyan
didn’t look comfortable. He had his knees drawn up and his head lowered. The
first thing that entered Robin’s head was ‘he’s
going to get into trouble for having his feet up on the chair’ and the
second thing was ‘what the hell are all
those feathers for’?

All around where Cyan sat, as well as woven into his hair,
were the bright, colourful feathers Robin had helped rescue, as well as little
squares of fabric. Cyan seemed to have fistfuls of feathers and cloths draped
over his knees. What the hell was going on? Cyan’s mother was sitting next to
him, rubbing his back and singing softly. Singing? In the headmaster’s office?

Robin exchanged a glance with the headmaster who shrugged
helplessly, showing one of his rare moments of humanity.

“Robin,” Cyan’s mother said, when she saw him. “Come sit
here.”

Hesitantly, Robin took a seat next to Cyan. Why hadn’t Cyan
even looked up?

“Hey,” Robin said, bumping shoulders with Cyan. Cyan moaned
and clutched the feathers tighter. “What’s up? You know I didn’t mean it, don’t
you? You know I’d never have said that about you? I was telling them what not to say. I told them I’d…” he glanced
at the headmaster. “…that I’d make life hard for them if they said anything
mean about you again. I’d never hurt you.”

For a long moment, Cyan didn’t move, then he slowly lifted
his head to look at Robin. It was hard to see through his hair, especially with
the feathers woven in. Cyan raised his hand. “Feathers,” he said.

“Lots of them.”

Cyan nodded and took a deep, shuddering sigh, rubbing his cheek
against a square of crimson velvet. “I think I need to go home now,” he said.

“Go home? Why?”

“I need to sleep.”

“Don’t you have another class?”

“Yes, but I can’t go today.”

“Why not? You’re not scared, are you? No one will hurt you
now. Everyone in the school knows the score. It will be easier from now on. I
promise.”

Cyan gazed at him. His eyes were very bright. “I believe
you,” he said. “I do trust you, but I still have to go home.”

“Why?”

“Because my Mam gave me my medicine and if I don’t go home
I’ll just go to sleep in the middle of the classroom. People tend to get pissed
when I do that.”

Now why not check out Wednesday Briefs for the other flashers and their amazing work

Monday, 19 May 2014

Blurb: Elizabethan actor Sebastian Hewel takes his bow at the proscenium
only to embark on the role of a lifetime. When his twin sister, Bronwyn,
reneges on the arrangement to marry Anthony Redbourn, Earl of Crofton,
Sebastian reluctantly takes her place. At nineteen, Sebastian knows his days as
a leading lady are numbered, but with this last performance, he hopes to
restore his family’s name and pay off his late father’s debts. Never mind the
danger of losing his head should he be discovered.

He didn’t expect Anthony to be so charming and alluring—not to mention
shrewd. While he applauds Sebastian’s plan, Anthony offers a mutually
beneficial arrangement instead. Sebastian will need every drop of talent he has
to survive with both his head and his heart intact, because this is the best
part he’s ever had.

“So what
of your sister, Mr. Hewel? Or were you always meant to play my bride?”

“Hardly.
She has run off with a man she thinks herself in love with.”

Crofton
laughed. “Clever girl.”

“So it
seems.”

Sebastian
watched as Crofton examined him closely, taking in his appearance from head to
toe. “What now? You know what we planned to do.”

“I think
the plan has merits,” Crofton replied with a sly grin.

“Her
Majesty has granted me permission to wed Bronwyn Hewel. How would it look if
Bronwyn were to refuse? But I think that we can come to an arrangement that
will prevent me from having to sully the once-great Hewel name.”

Sebastian
didn’t like the sound of that—the words too close to blackmail for his comfort.
“Meaning what, exactly?”

“If you
are willing to keep up this pretense, continue to play Bronwyn, then I in turn
would take up the mantle of devoted husband.”

“What?”

“Your
greatest performance, Mr. Hewel. Fool the court and polite society in an
extravagant wedding, then retire to my country house to be my beloved wife for
perhaps a year or two, after which time my young, but sickly, wife will succumb
to a fever, and you will return to your life as Sebastian Hewel.”

For a
moment Sebastian was unable to reply, Crofton’s shocking proposal robbing him
of words. “But why would you want this?”

Crofton’s
smile was predatory. “I have my reasons.”

“But—”

“No buts,
Mr. Hewel. Do you have your answer? A life of luxury and your honor, or your
family’s disgrace?”

Sebastian’s
heart raced, but as he stared into Crofton’s expectant face, he really had
little choice. “I accept.”

Review

I don't
read historical novels. I just don't I especially don't read historical
romance. So why did I sit down and read this book in two sittings (damn the
need for sleep)?

The story
itself is simple, if fresh and quite unique. Anthony, the Earl of Crofton needs
to marry into a family who is overtly loyal to Queen Elizabeth. He arranges a
marriage with Bronwyn Hewel. Unfortunately Bronwyn runs off with a stable hand
just before the wedding.

Sebastian
Hewel is an actor in a Shakespearean troupe. As it is considered unlucky for
women to take the stage, and as Sebastian is relatively new, he plays only
female roles. Thus he is adept at pretending to be a woman, which is no mean
feat when considering the amount of clothing women are required to wear at
these times.

It suits
both parties, that Sebastian take on the role of his twin sister and marry the
Earl. Of course they then fall in love and have a series of adventures, as
lovers do,

There is
nothing particularly remarkable about the story, but the way it is written is
definitely cause for celebration. The story is told in a very straightforward
way and gives you a glimpse into the lives of a poor actor and a super rich
Earl, in Victorian London, without overloading you with information or trying
to teach you anything.

We learn a
lot about women's dress because we struggle with it alongside poor Sebastian,
and we learn a lot about a woman's role in society because Sebastian is forced
to learn pdq and again we struggle to get to grips with it alongside him. There
are some beautiful historical details and a very delicate hand in painting
pictures of day to day life, even down to the books they read and the games
they played.

There must
have been a lot of research as the book is full of little authentic details,
such as a doll being called a poppet, ladies taking ale with their breakfast,
and eels having so many bones they have to be picked from the palate. Of course
the bigger authentic details are astounding as well.

It's
amazing there's room for sex scenes but my goodness there are. I never realized
how erotic it was to have to strip off so many clothes. The sex is hot but not
gratuitous and fits in perfectly with the tone and pace of the story.

Whilst I
can't, in all honesty, say this is at the top of my favourites list, this is
only because I have read some pretty amazing books and it is saying a lot that
it has made its way onto the list very comfortably. I would recommend this book
without qualms to both those who love, and those who generally hate historical
romance.

Author Bio:Rebecca
Cohen is a Brit abroad. Having swapped the Thames for the Rhine, she has left
London behind and now lives with her husband and baby son in Basel,
Switzerland. She can often be found with a pen in one hand and a cup of
Darjeeling in the other.

Friday, 16 May 2014

Blurb(s): When Queensland Police Force Constable James
Laramee raids a hotel room, he finds Vinnie Canterbury on top of a naked, dead
man, covered in blood. Vinnie promptly vomits all over James’s shoes.

Thanks to a cocktail of horse sedatives and Hendra vaccine, Vinnie’s memories
of his ordeal are fractured. Finding the culprits and the reasons behind his
abduction will be a challenge. With his apartment trashed, his building set on
fire, and his clothes, phone and wallet gone, Vinnie needs a place to stay. To
his surprise, James not only takes him in, but also lets him cry on his
shoulder. It must be true love. Vinnie has plans for his future with James all
mapped out, and he hopes he can get James on the same page.

Author Bio: E E Montgomery wants the world to be a better place, with equality
and acceptance for all. Her philosophy is: We can’t change the world but we can
change our small part of it and, in that way, influence the whole. Writing
stories that show people finding their own ‘better place’ is part of E E
Montgomery’s own small contribution.

Thankfully, there’s never a shortage of
inspiration for stories that show people growing in their acceptance and love
of themselves and others. A dedicated people-watcher, E E finds stories
everywhere. In a cafe, a cemetery, a book on space exploration or on the news,
there’ll be a story of personal growth, love, and unconditional acceptance
there somewhere.

Excerpt: His bed was stripped to the
mattress. The shredded mattress. Foam stuffing bubbled up between the slashes
like pus weeping from an infected wound. He tore his attention from the bed to
find his sheets and duvet scattered all over the floor. In pieces. He
whimpered.

“I just bought that set.” He pressed
his fingers against his lips. Even in his shock he recognized the inanity of
his comment. His gaze was drawn to the freestanding full-length mirror beside
the windows. Black writing marred the polished surface.

NEXT TIME DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD FAG OR
THE SAME WILL HAPPEN TO YOU.

He turned to see Laramee beside him,
his hand again clamped on Vinnie’s arm. “What was I told?” he whispered. “I
don’t know what I was told.”

It was too much. He flung himself at
Laramee, buried his face in the warm, slightly harsh fabric of his uniform,
ignored the button digging into his forehead, and burst into tears.

“I don’t even know your name. I
can’t sob all over you if I don’t know your name,” he wailed.

The idea for the Brit Babes began a little over a year ago
when a group of us got together for one of those rare opportunities to sit and
chat to other writers. We were at Eroticon 2013 and after a day of networking, we
were discussing the problems faced by writers and whether, as a group, we could
help each other to promote our work. The conversation evolved over several
glasses of wine, as these things do and we came up with the idea for the Brit
Babes based on the fact that eight people working together would be better than
one!

While we were talking we decided that not only did we want
to get our books out there, we also wanted somewhere online where we could
interact with and involve our readers and so the idea of the Brit Babes Street
Team was born.

What is a Street Team

What is a 'street team'? Basically, as authors we want our work to be read. The best way to get the word out for us is through the medium of reviews, which is why we need readers who are happy to tell the world what they think of our stories.

Our members post reviews for our erotic romance and erotica books on Amazon and Goodreads as well as their Facebook and Twitter accounts to spread the word on the 'street' about our work. We also connect on Pinterest too.

So at first we started off with a Yahoo group and a few
readers that we knew already tweeted and posted about our work and the results
have been fabulous! We now have a group of dedicated readers who shout about
our new releases and come and gossip with us and each other on our Yahoo and
Facebook groups.

So if you enjoy talking all things erotica and erotic
romance and you want to be part of a growing community, why not come and join
us? Not only will you have fun but we’ll also send you free copies of our books
in return for posting reviews on as many websites and social media platforms as
you can! We also host cool monthly prizes exclusively for team members.

Leave us a comment at the below link with your email address
and we’ll be in touch ASAP!

Wednesday, 14 May 2014

Another Wednesday rolls around, and with it another installment of Cyan. The message this week. Be careful what you say when you can be overheard, especially when what you say can so easily be misinterpreted when only half of it is heard.

“Shit, Cyan, what the hell happened?” Robin tried to pull up
more of Cyan’s shit to assess the damage.

“Don’t touch me,” Cyan hissed, pulling away.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Robin held up his hands, palm outwards.
“Can I just take a look? You lift your shirt and I’ll look. I won’t touch.
Promise.”

With a reluctant frown, Cyan pulled his shirt entirely out
of his trousers and twisted, trying to see in the mirror. The bruise ran from
the front of his hip bone, to the middle of his back. It was already purpling ,and
had to hurt.

“How did that happen?”

“I was only pushed
in the mud, remember?”

Robin sighed inwardly.
“Okay, I asked for that. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“They stamped on me,” Cyan repeated, checking his tie in the
mirror. “It hurt but it was quick. I don’t mind too much when it’s quick.”

Feeling sick, Robin managed to growl out. “Who did it?”

Cyan turned to him and frowned. “I don’t want to tell you,”
he said.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll make things worse.”

“I promise, I won’t. I just want to know who it is so I can
talk to them and tell them not to do it again.”

Cyan snorted. “As if,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Either you really are going to talk to them, in which case
you might as well stay here and bang your head on the wall, or you’re going to
get into trouble, and I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“I promise, I won’t. I’ll only talk to him. And I promise it
will do more good than banging my head on the wall.”

“How? How can you promise that?”

“Because between me and my friends we pretty much rule the
school. I’m on the swim team, Alex is a star football player. Aivah wins
trophies in the Eisteddfod. The teachers
love us; the school need us, and everyone know how to push us. I just need to
tell him nicely that ‘us’ now includes ‘you’.”

Cyan’s eyes widened. “Are you really that important?”

“I don’t know about important. Influential maybe.”

Cyan examined him again for a while then nodded. “I don’t
know their names,” he said, “but one of them had weird hair-all spiky, and he
was big. Another one talked funny, that is, with a m accent.”

“Did one of them have a scar on his lip? Greasy black hair?”

Cyan thought for a moment, then nodded.

“I know who they are. Go back to the common room and wait
for me there. I won’t be long.”

“What are you going to do?” Cyan sounded scared, and Robin
reached out to pat his arm reassuringly.

Fortunately he snatched back his hand
before it made contact.

“I’m going to find them, and talk to them. That’s all.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely. Go back to the common room and wait.”

Cyan bit his lip and nodded.

Ben was still outside the door, leaning against the wall
with his arms folded.

“Have fun, you two?” he asked with a grin.

“Hardly. Can you walk Cyan back to the common room?”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“To find Blake Harries and his crew.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Need help?”

“Nope.”

Ben nodded and started up the corridor. Cyan remained,
staring at Robin. “Come on then,” Ben said sounding frustrated. Are you coming,
or what?”

Robin knew exactly where Blake Harris would be, and he
headed straight there. They weren’t the common-or-garden variety of bully.
These were the ‘rich boys’ pretending to be ‘bad boys’ kind. The kind who wore
shades in the winter and always had girls hanging around with them.

“What do you want, gay boy?” Blake asked while the others
jeered. “What some of what your boyfriend had?”

Robin ignored him; he ignored them all. Storming through the
group without unstoppable determination, he slammed into Blake and would have
knocked him over if the hadn’t already grabbed the front of his shirt. If there
had been a wall he would have slammed him into it, but he had to make do.

“Boyfriend,” one of the others jeered, but there was a
nervous edge to it now.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let go of me.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I will, but not before you swear an
oath never to lay a finger on Cyan again.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“You know what I can do…what we can do. Make your lives a
misery. I don’t have time for this. Just swear.”

“Hey man,” Will Pearce, one of Blake’s cronies piped up.
“There’s no need for that. It was only a bit of fun. We weren’t going to play
with the retard no more.”

“What did you say?” Robin let go of Blake and rounded on Will,
who looked a little taken aback.

“We were only playing, Robin. It was a new game – throw the
retard in the pond.” Everyone sniggered, but Robin snarled.

“Cyan is no retard. He’s different, that’s all. But let me
make this simple for you. In your own words. The next time you’re thinking of
playing pick on the retard, think again. Because if you lay one finger on him
again, I’ll rip your fucking arm off.”

A strangled cry, caused Robin to spin. Cyan stood a few feet
away in the corridor. The expression on his face made Robin’s stomach churn

Monday, 12 May 2014

I'm excited to host this book You should all know my feelings about fallen angels - just look around guys, so it was a particular pleasure to find one on the tour. Not that it's only about angels. Well...I'd better let you find out for yourselves

Though mortals have been convinced that God cares about their souls, nothing could be further from the truth. He created the world as a gift for his lover, Satan. But when Satan left him, he decided to end what he saw as his most grotesque creation.

Satan and his army of demons are man's only hope.

The demon Kinzer and his lover, Janka, have been sent by Satan to spy on The Raze, a gang of rogue demons who are working with God to bring about Armageddon. When someone exposes their true allegiances, The Raze clips Kinzer's wings, and murder Janka. Kinzer manages to escape. He tracks down Satan's allies to warm them about a mole in their midst when he hears that they have located the Antichrist - a powerful weapon that could prevent the apocalypse. Now, he's on a mission to protect the Antichrist and avenge his lover's death.

Author Bio:

If I was writing an old-school craigslist personal, I'd say (appropriately in code) fit masc em ddf looking 4 same 28yo. Of course, who's honest with their craigslist personal ads? And who the hell used craigslist these days? Please. That's what grindr is for.

On a more serious note, I'm from Atlanta, GA. I work odd jobs. My gay erotic novel Clipped is available through Wilde City Press. I also have vampire novel coming out through Wilde City in October and a young adult novel being released through Harmony Ink Press in June or July

Dedrus scanned Kinzer’s body, admiring his massive biceps, his brown
eyes, and his black waves of hair. Even with the wounds and tears that still
tainted his face, he was beautiful. Dedrus wanted to press him back against the
cushion, rip off his clothes, and provide him with the ease he deserved. But
no! He was just wanting it for himself, and he was pretending that it was to
serve Kinzer’s pain.

“I loved him so much.” The words cracked through
Kinzer’s lips. His cheeks and forehead shivered. Tears filled his eyes. “I know
we had so much time, but it wasn’t enough.”

The sting in Dedrus’s chest intensified. His cheeks
flashed red as anger washed over him—anger that he loathed because it made him
feel like a terrible, selfish creature.

He set his hand on Kinzer’s back, his palm stroking
softly across the blue fabric of his polo. He wanted to say, “You’ll find love
again.” He couldn’t, because he knew he’d really be saying, “Please find love
in me.” He thought of saying, “Everything will be alright.” No. He couldn’t
make that kind of promise. “It’ll take time,” felt appropriate, and yet, as an
immortal, Dedrus never perceived time as a generous gift as much as a twisted,
agonizing punishment.

“I wish I could think of something right to say about
this,” Dedrus said, “but I can’t. I know how much you loved him, and I know how
much he loved you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is going to be for you.
But I’m here. As your friend. I don’t know if that means much, but I know the
feeling of having something so perfect and wonderful torn from you.”

Kinzer’s gaze met his. His eyes were sad.

Does he know what I’m talking about?

“Tell me you’ve found someone,” Kinzer said.

“Of course,” he lied. “I’m just being overdramatic.”

“I figured as much. Considering where you work, I'm
sure you get a lot of offers.”

It was true, but not the way Kinzer was suggesting.
There were nights when Treycore dragged some pathetic mortal back to ease
Dedrus’s pain. Those nights were the loneliest. Though he could bring himself
to climax, it was an empty relief that just stirred the cruel memories of those
moments filled with so much more.

Dedrus hugged him again. “Let’s get to bed,” he said.
“You need some sleep.”

Kinzer nodded.

“We have plenty to sort through tomorrow. You can have
my room. I’ll just sleep here.”

Dedrus released him.

Kinzer picked the sword up off his lap and stood. He
reached his hand out. “Come on. It won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed.”

The upward curl of his lip let Dedrus know that Kinzer
was more than interested.

Dedrus’s dick swelled. “I don’t think I can.” He
wanted Kinzer so bad, and if he put himself in that position, he was sure that
he wouldn’t be able to resist making a move—especially if Kinzer initiated
something.

“I'd rather not disrespect you like that,” Dedrus
said.

Kinzer’s hand fell, bouncing against his jeans. His
head drooped.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dedrus smiled. “‘Night, Kinzer.”

Kinzer knelt, offering a light peck on Dedrus’s lips.

Don’t tease me with a taste!

“Up the stairs, first room on the right.”

Kinzer walked up the stairs, headed down the hall, and
slipped into Dedrus’s bedroom.

Dedrus had hoped that Kinzer’s exit would provide some
relief.

It didn't.

He ached for him. His thoughts dwelled on Kinzer’s
lips tickling his nipples, his gaze appreciating his body, his tongue
delighting in his body’s grooves. He wanted to run upstairs and throw his arms
around him, to hold him for the night, and tell him that no matter what
happened he’d be there for him. He wanted more than that, but he wouldn’t press
his friend. He wouldn’t dare cross that line…even if Kinzer insisted.

Spreading his limbs across the couch, he rested his
head on a lace pillow at the end and rolled so that he was facing the cushions.

He closed his eyes.

A few moments passed before something pressed against
his ass.

He flipped over and hopped to his feet, ready for a
fight.

Kinzer stood before him, holding his hands out, as if
showing a cop that he was unarmed. “Whoa, cowboy. Chill the fuck out.”

“Sorry.” Every hair on Dedrus’s immortal body stood on
end. “You freaked the shit out of me. Did you need something? Another cover?
Pillows?”

Kinzer wiggled his thumb behind the waistband in
Dedrus’s khakis.

“Yeah. I need something.” He pulled their pelvises
together.

His hot breath rushed across Dedrus’s lips, settling
in the bristles across his cheeks. The warmth combined with a rush of blood
that surged to his face and made him feel like his cheeks were about to catch
on fire.

He trailed his palm over the rough fabric of Kinzer’s
polo. As he reached the smooth flesh of his neck, curly black hairs pricked his
fingertips.

Kinzer opened his mouth wide. Dedrus eagerly
reciprocated, tilting his head and allowing their lips to seal together. A
swirling sensation gathered at the back of his spine and rushed to the crown of
his skull.

Guilt nagged at his thoughts. He couldn’t do this.
Kinzer didn’t really want him. He was just vulnerable and ached for a physical
distraction from his grief. It would be wrong to take advantage while he was
still recovering from Janka’s death.

Kinzer’s tongue flicked his.

He wanted Kinzer so bad, but not like that. Pressing
his hand against the dip between the bulbous, jagged pecs before him, he broke
their sealed kiss.

“What?” Kinzer rested his hands on either of Dedrus’s
hips.

“This wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to disrespect
you.”

“I know. But I want you to.”

Kinzer wrapped both arms around Dedrus. Spinning them
around, he pushed Dedrus back against a painting that hung from the wall.

Kinzer’s eyes glistened with that gleam—the one that
was so familiar to Dedrus.

Dedrus couldn’t control himself. His lips returned to
their passionate embrace. His fingers found their way under Kinzer’s
shirt, feeling about fervently, savoring the dips in his torso.